A New Day
by cara eats books
Summary: I knew it was illogical. I knew it was stupid. I was used to those kinds of people – the spoiled, arrogant, and absurdly rich. It wouldn’t be that different from back home…right? Oh, yeah. I forgot about the Host Club. New character.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Enjoy.

I spent the entire drive fighting the urge to puke.

I knew it was illogical. I knew it was stupid. I was used to those kinds of people – the spoiled, arrogant, and absurdly rich. It wouldn't be that different from back home…

_No,_ I thought. _I won't think about that._

I sighed and tucked a strand of gold hair back behind my ear. Wonderful. Not many blue-eyed blond people in Japan. _Though I suppose there'll be more racial diversity at Ouran than most other schools. _My mental tone was more hopeful than certain. _The parents are definitely wealthy enough to travel…_

I lifted my book in front of my eyes again, attempting to immerse myself in tales of beautifully unrealistic fantasy worlds. Worlds where the mother doesn't really die, and your idiot ambassador father isn't rude enough to drag you across the Pacific ocean to a completely different country...

Reading, for once, didn't help. But I stared at the page anyway.

"We are arriving, Miss." I jumped at the driver's kind, mercifully American voice. Ralph, I remembered. My father imported him from Texas.

The limo slid gracefully into position in a long line of slightly fancier ones. And my mouth fell open.

Oh. My. God.

The school was absolutely the most ridiculously ostentatious thing I had ever seen. Built like some gothic castle, it towered at least five stories above velvet-green lawns and bright gardens manicured to uniform perfection. It was built out of some pale stone, complete with gold accents and marble statues.

I had to resist the urge to snort, half in awe and half in exasperation. I mean, _really._ Gold?

Tearing my gaze from the intimidating building, I dug around in my bag for a hand mirror.

I had left my hair down today. It fell past my waist, straight and very noticeably blond. I suppressed another sigh. As my mother would have said, flaunt your differences with pride. There's no point in trying to hide what everyone can plainly see.

I just wish it were easier.

I was very pretty, with high cheek bones and wide, gray-blue eyes. My skin was pale (reading inside all day doesn't really help one's complexion). Dark circles, the result of moving stress and frustration, stood out plainly.

Ugh.

Steeling myself, I snapped the mirror shut and tossed it back into the bag. And I shoved open the door.


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: I took a few liberties with the description of the school and grounds. I wasn't up to ensuring everything was correct, but I believe it all fits together smoothly. And I'm sorry that the chapters are so short. They'll get longer as I get more into the story._

_I do not own Ouran or any of the characters. Sad, I know._

I plucked at my stuffy dress nervously as I stepped onto the cobble stone sidewalk.

The morning was cool and cloudless. The wane sunshine beamed down at me from the east. Mocking me.

The first thing I noticed was that there were very few visible teenagers. Had I been back at my school in Colorado, the front walk and pick-up area would be mobbed with giggling girls and goofing guys.

Two girls, both older than me, scurried quickly from their respective cars and through the great double doors of the school. Actually, "scurried" wasn't the right word. More like danced with exquisite poise and grace up the impressive front steps and over the threshold of the school, the doors of which were held wide by two sharply dressed butlers.

I was sure the girls looked better in the yellow uniform than I did. Hell, the butlers would look better in the uniform than I did. After all, I had always been the kind of girl that felt best in denim and flannel – and a cowboy hat, if I was feeling especially hick-ish – not puffy sleeved, prim dresses that belonged in an English parlor.

Crap. Self confidence issues on the first day of school are not the way to go.

Taking a deep breath, I slammed the car door and started towards the doors.

__________________________________________

Someone from the front office led me to my first class. I don't remember her name, but she seemed very interested in my father and his job. Typical.

I didn't really have time to gawk open-mouthed at the pretentious, extravagant hallways. Hallways lined with enormous, sparkling windows on one side and richly polished doors on the other. Once the not-so-nice lady found out that I wasn't some sort of a billion dollar heiress, she seemed quite content to let me arrive early.

I was the first one there. Obviously all the other students were privy to the location of a good hangout, as none had been loitering in the corridors or empty classrooms.

Not that I really cared, of course. I had never been one for standing around talking with nothing to say.

The classroom was slightly less profligate than the rest of the school. Desks – the collegiate kind (not good for my left handed-ness) – were lined up in traditional rows, facing the board. I had been expecting some sort of fancy smart board system and was not disappointed.

The teacher was professional, first inquiring about my fluency in Japanese and familiarity with Japanese literature. I assured him (in Japanese) that I was comfortable in my knowledge of both. He directed me to a seat by the window.

Students began arriving at five to eight. I had my book out again, trying to lose myself and _not _look at the clock. Do not look at the clock, Rue. Do not look at the clock. Do not…

It wasn't working.

So instead of staring pointlessly at letters on a page, I discreetly watched the students. It was something my mother had taught me – how to watch and see and notice without being horridly rude about it.

It was difficult to do. My newness did not go unnoticed, and I saw a few girls whispering and shooting glances at me. Very obvious glances.

My hair didn't stand out as much as I thought it would. Two boys – incredibly handsome identical twins, in fact – had a shock of perfectly styled orange hair. And their friend was a brunette.

There was something funny about the three of them. The twins had there arms slung over the brunettes shoulders possessively, but not quite romantically. And the brunette…it was tough to tell, but I thought it was a girl in a guy's uniform. _How can she get away with that? _I thought jealously. She tolerated their affections coolly.

They sat down in the middle of the classroom, one on either side of the girl.

And the teacher started talking.

"First off," he said, pushing his glasses up his nose. "I'd like to introduce Rue Saunders, daughter of the American ambassador to Japan." He smiled kindly at me, obviously thinking he was doing me a favor.

Marvelous. Just perfect.


End file.
